Bus Driver Earl drives by on Martin Luther King Way, honk-honk-honking at me from his gleaming off-white lexus. Big smile. Oddly enough, a moment before another bus driver had appeared in a car passing by Center Park, and for no reason I had looked at the car's driver- it was one of those millisecond recognitions, where they go by too fast to acknowledge, but afterwards you know both of you are grinning. There's a group of PNB dancers who sometimes get on at Mercer Street inbound. They're finishing up practice, and are always full of wonderful energy. As I cross Mercer, I always check to see if they're running for the bus. They never have- they're always either already at the stop, or not there at all. But you form habits, just in case- there's a porch on 23rd I always look at, because sometimes, just sometimes, Michael is sitting there, and I want to be able to honk and wave if he is. It's like checking your blind spot- you turn your head over your shoulder a million times in your life, all so you can avoid that one fatal accident. It is worth it. Today, once again, I check down Mercer out of habit, just a quick glance, and for the first time they really are there, running for the bus. Renata, with the wavy brown hair, is full of lively vigor. She has a zeal and presence that makes the most out of a moment. She won't be riding this route next season, which is a relief in a way that would take too long for me to explain: of course I prefer her and the others being there. But growing up I was always the one who stuck around, while friends moved away. As time passed, the tables turned and I was always the person doing the leaving. Neither is ideal. I'm about to leave the route for the summer too; it feels nice when someone else is leaving when you are. She and I talk about stress, art, school, dance. The energy is building. Recognizable faces. They all smile- is it me glowing, from the energy of the Renata conversation, or are they? Columbia Starbucks Guy, African Man, Purple 8th Walker Lady, Fishes Wheelchair Fellow... smiles all around. Big guys say thanks, sauntering out the back door. Where is this great, expanding energy coming from? It's getting on toward evening, but the air hums with a gentle sense of new beginnings. Third and Union. We drive past a collage of police cars. There's so many of them, and of so many different models, I wonder if it's actually an impromptu cop car show. A row of teens now, on the cement, sitting on their hands. Here's a classic cop car, with admiring guys taking photos. A jaywalker; a crowd going to the concert hall; someone releases a balloon.

The mixture of positive and negative, swirling in and around each other, events both comprehendible and not... it's as if this street represents a microcosm of decades, multitudes past and present. Late evening sun peeks through tall buildings.

The Earth could turn in only this way.

I see faces of all colors raised to the sky, happy, tired, angry; you feel the heady rush of the sublime, the awareness of totality. Everything is encapsulated here, glorious, close, and terrible, and it's magic hour. I feel euphoric, and strangely outside of time.

I love how you become a part of each and every encounter. Living life to the utmost. Love it! Love you Nathan Vass. Son.

Reply

Nathan Vass

9/19/2013 06:04:02 am

Mom!!! Thanks for such wonderful feedback. I wasn't sure if this post would go over, especially with the last part being a little more abstract. Thank you for being yourself! See you on the wire...

Reply

Paul Margolis

9/19/2013 03:18:21 pm

The post is great because of the abstract part in the end. It is funny, your response to my last comment touched on the idea of attempting to put movement into memory. I got there for sure! We were moving! I was in that bus, I was driving past the kids sitting on the curb on their hands. My head turned as we drive by. As the balloon went into the air I watched it go up. It was red. I love that this post could be one trip, or an amalgamation of a shake-up. It doesn't matter; both are beautiful:

Reply

Nathan

9/20/2013 06:49:27 am

Paul, thank you! So glad it comes through. You know what it's like out there, which makes it particularly special to share these stories, but what's even more rewarding is knowing that you also know what the world looks like through this perspective we share (Tracy, of course this applies to you too!).

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Nancy Wilson

10/2/2013 12:17:25 am

Great snapshot. I drove from 1978 to 1982 (then went on to other jobs) but loved the energy that got on and off the bus. A wonderful reminder of times past! Thanks.

Reply

Nathan

10/4/2013 11:37:00 am

Hi Nancy,

So great to hear such feedback from a fellow operator! I'm glad the energies on the bus spoke to you, and that it continues to thrive as time passes by. Thanks for reading!